She watched as the semi-trailer in front of her swayed back and forth in the wind. She didn't know much about trucks, but she didn't think it should be doing that. How much damage was it causing, and was everything she had requested in there?
She had wanted time to check everything out, but the second they had hurried off the tarmac, two Hummers had been waiting for her, her small team, and the soldiers who had been assigned to them for security. Something told her they would also be their executioners had any of them tried to run at the last minute. She could tell that Thomas, another member of their team, had already put that together because he eyed them cautiously.
Lights flared on the truck in front of her and her eyes went back to watching it. She hadn't realized her gaze had drifted down to the driver's sidearm. She thought his name was Rick. He had introduced himself to her as Private First Class Riker but, as she couldn't help but giggle at the obvious Star Trek reference, she had finally coached his first name out of him.
God, how awful, she had thought. His parents had actually named him Rick Riker? Sure, his name was actually Richard, but no one probably called him that. So, yes, her driver was Rick Riker, and if any of them tried to back out, PFC Riker would be one of them who would shoot them down.
He probably wouldn't even think twice about it. Even with his short build, he had a stocky frame and looked like he was a hardened soldier. It was a huge difference from the nervous soldier sitting next to her in the back.
She watched as the truck in front of her, its lights ablaze, started to shift to the side of the road. Then she noticed that they were matching its speed and pulling off to the side of the road, as well.
"We’re stopping?" she asked.
"We are at the outer perimeter. We need to get clearance, then put on the Level 1 Hazmat suits before we proceed any further."
"Oh, god. Are you going to be able to drive in that thing?" She knew how restrictive and bulky the suits were. She always wished someone would design a more practical, better-fitting suit. However, the fault in her logic was just one word…practical. Was it more practical to have tailored suits for everyone who ever might need one, or to have one size fits all? However, you have the one size fits all, they would never fit properly. Practicality at its worst and finest, and she was left to complain about it.
However, this time, she was complaining more for him than herself. She wasn’t a soldier walking around with guns, having to drive in the thing. She just had to do research.
She looked at the semi-trailer again. How the hell had they made that thing sterile? How were they supposed to work in there? Couldn't they have used a RV or something more comfortable? How had they secured it so they could work in there without having to constantly be in the hazmat suits?
As the questions ran through her mind, so did the answers. Sterilizing it wasn't too hard. They probably set up a clean room within a clean room, and as for equipment, they probably made sure to secure it all down so any shaking wouldn't cause damage to the chemicals. How were they supposed to work in there, though? Why not an RV? Well, the semi-trailer had no restrictions in it, like couches and a kitchen. While the luxuries would have been nice to have, they weren't going there to relax. They were going there to find out what was wrong and why the town was under quarantine.
She even remembered her report mentioning something like this would work in a situation where one of the prefabbed labs wasn’t available. In that instance, the trailer made the most sense because it was wide open space they could quickly customize to their needs, working it into a useable space.
Damn, that monstrosity in front of them was her own fucking design!
They came to a stop.
She watched as the men around her were suiting up, then helping their fellow soldiers. They looked like space suits. Damn, the things are ugly.
A knock at her window made her jump and she turned to look. The general was standing there. She opened the door to get out and he moved out of her way.
"Suit up. Your team is about to go in."
She looked around. "Yeah, I figured."
"When you get in, the soldiers have orders to take you to the doctor's office. They have radios on a special frequency that isn’t being blocked. Get word out as to what is going on so we know if we have something serious, or if your man just started spouting flying butterflies out of his ass."
Sarah nodded, a soldier already working around her to get her into her hazmat pants. She thought the soldier was a woman, but in the camouflage and the baggy outfit they all wore, she couldn't tell.
She wanted to just scream at the soldier, tell her she could dress her own damn self, but the woman was moving quickly and didn't pay much attention to her.
"Get us fucking intel. Then do whatever the fuck you do. If this is as serious as your man has lead us to believe, fix it."
The soldier finished putting on her suit, securing it so there were no gaps. As the soldier was reaching for her helmet, she turned to look back at the general. His eyes were burrowing into her. He wasn't happy, but why should any of them be happy? This wasn't a small issue. They had quarantined a whole town. If this turned out to be nothing, heads were going to roll. If it was something, who knew how bad of an outbreak they were looking at?
"I don't need to tell you what happens if you can't control it,” he said.
As she thought about that, her mouth went dry. As she fought back a tear, thinking about what would happen if she couldn’t stop whatever was infesting the town, she lost the ability to speak. She could only nod. Then he turned around and was gone, leaving her to think about just how bad all of this could get.
CHAPTER 14
Travis rushed out from the back door, nearly stumbling off the side of the stairs as he tried to hurry. He heard the old man coming up behind him and figured Jaime must be coming out last. He kept his eyes moving, watching for any of those things. He looked back and saw that Jaime bringing up the rear, Nadine cradled in her arms.
“I parked over here,” he called to them. He didn’t give a shit if they really kept up with him. He hoped the sharpness in his voice kept them moving. It was keep up or get left behind. He saw what those things did and this was all about survival. His survival.
He shot a look of disapproval at Jaime. Yeah, he wanted his kid to be with them. Well, at least he wasn’t about to leave it in a place like this where they already thought of him as shit. That stuck-up hoy-ty-toy-ty owner’s kid, that cop, and that damn nurse bitch who had been looking down at his wife… He could see how they all were looking at them, how they had watched as his wife had been yelling at him. He knew it, he could see it in their eyes, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave his kid with them.
However, looking back at his wife, he also didn’t want to bring them. Either of them were trouble, and they were probably going to get him killed.
His plan was to get to Bobby’s, get the guns, and find somewhere to hole up. If they survived, then they would see what needed to be done.
No, he couldn’t be thinking about that yet. Focus on what they were doing. Focus on where they were right now.
He scanned the road. Some of the zombies were at the end of the street, but he couldn’t see any near his truck. Damn, he was glad he has his truck and not the car. It was a large, diesel Dodge pick-up that he knew could handle running over a few zombie bad boys along the way. Once they got in there, they were safe.
And Mr. Jones, that annoying prick, was coming with them? Nah, he didn’t feel that was really going to happen. He’d probably use him as bait. After all, what did they say? “You don’t have to be a great runner. You just have to be able to run faster than the man behind you”?
He looked back at Jaime again, giving her that harsh gaze. She had to bring the fucking kid. Something was wrong about that, too. He noticed it the first time he looked back at her, and it still nagged at him. Something was missing, something that had his nerves tingling. What had they forgotten?
Jai
me was hurrying behind Mr. Jones, Nadine nestled with her head onto Jaime’s shoulder. The little angel was asleep, not knowing that the world around her was going to shit.
Why was Jaime carrying her? Why wasn’t Nadine in the car seat? Travis had seen her bring it into… The damn bitch had left it in there?! The fucking bitch. It’s not like this wasn’t going to be hard enough getting over to Bobby’s to get the guns, but the damn bitch had forgotten the damn car seat.
Fuck!
He looked to the door to the bar, knowing it was no use. The loud clang from the other side of the door could be heard from where they were. The door was locked now, and the damned bastard kid had put that railroad track across it. There was no going back.
* * * *
Jason had watched as the trio made it to the back door, his stomach twisting with conflicting emotions. In one sense, he was glad they were going. All of them were a pain in the ass. Mr. Jones… Damn, he couldn’t really say he would ever be sorry to see that son of a bitch disappear, but the man had a right to live. The redneck… Hell, he was annoying and his wife seemed like a bitch, but out there, without knowing anything yet, was certain death. Where the hell would they go?
Then there was the baby. While the others made their choices, the little girl didn’t have one. They were taking her to her death.
His chest felt tight, his stomach was turning from the acid trying to rise up, and a pounding started to form behind his temple. This was all pushing into him, and he wished he could just turn it off. Sullivan was happy, this was his wet dream, but Jason just wanted to keep the damn things on television where he could turn them off when he was sick or disgusted by them.
The back door clanged shut as the trio left the bar, the woman going out last.
They were gone…and the door was unlocked.
He rushed into the back hallway to bar it, lock the three dead bolts, and put the large metal pole in place. The back door had more security than the front. While they both had the large railway rail that was put across it and were both large metal fire doors that were nearly impossible to break through, the back door also had three large deadbolt locks and the metal pole that fastened to the door and the floor.
It would take a bomb to get in.
He was getting more and more thankful for his mother’s paranoia.
* * * *
At the sound of the back door crashing shut, Rob hurried to the front window and watched the zombies continue to spread out in the street around them. They busted down doors, and tore into the people around him, tearing out their flesh. And here he stood, having no way of going out there and doing a dammed thing about it. His skin crawled, and he continually tried to reach for his sidearm when he saw a new victim being caught or a new house being invaded. He had no idea just how many of them there had been when they started, but their numbers were growing exponentially.
He wanted to go out there and help the people that were still alive, but he knew if he had he tried, he would only be going to his own death. That was his job, though. He should have been out there, putting his life on the line to save more people. He was a protector. That’s what he had signed up for so many years ago when he had first become a cop. Sure, during those many years when he had been cruising the streets of Chicago, he had grown jaded and wasn’t sure what it had meant to him, but getting out of the city had helped.
He was part of the community now. Sure, this wasn’t his town, but he had now lived in a small town of his own for just over a year, and had slowly started to remember that people were people. That when he had chosen to become a cop, there had been some reason behind it. He was a protector of people. He was there to keep them safe, even if it was from themselves.
So how was he supposed to protect them now?
The first victim, the auto mechanic, the one who he had talked to that morning about his car, was getting back up. Shortly after the things had attacked at him and had torn at his flesh, they had quickly stopped, moving onto their next victim. He wasn’t sure what that meant yet, but knew it was curious. They had attacked him, but hadn’t eaten him. Now the man was back up. He was unsteady, but they didn’t seem to be paying attention to him anymore.
Rob watched the man as he fought his way to stand. He was twitching and looking around. He seemed confused and swayed back and forth, staggering when his weight went too far to the left and right, forward and back. The man seemed like he didn’t know where he was or how to walk. When he stepped forward, he was staggered cautiously, as though he wasn’t sure how it would feel when his foot came down onto the pavement.
It made Rob think of his son, Jake. When Jake had taken his first steps, they had been that way. It was the first step of a little child who still didn’t possess full control over his motor skills. More steps continued, each one a little less rough. However, when Jake was learning, after about four steps, he had started to dash into that child run that always ended in a crashing fall.
Jake. Robyn. He should have been getting done with court right about now and should have been on his way home. He wasn’t supposed to be there, and he wouldn’t have been if he had taken his damn cell phone with him this morning, or if he had made sure the spare tire had been fixed. Then again, if he would have bought new tires when the first one had blown rather than just continuing to put on those cheap used ones, he probably would have been in better shape.
Anymore guilt you want to put onto yourself? he thought. He had made many mistakes so he was sure he could find more if he stopped to think about it.
Yeah, there was. He never should have let them take that baby out of there. He knew he had no legal right to stop them, but they were all going to go and get themselves killed. He should have stopped them. He should have tried harder to rip the child away from her. He should have-
He strained his neck, trying to see down the side of the building the best he could. It was hopeless. The windows faced towards the front, and there wasn’t a single window that would allow him to see along the side.
He watched as another mass of those things tore through another door. They were now in the same block as the bar, working on the houses right across the street.
“Outside is full of zombies, and all my preparation for them is ruined by me being here,” Sullivan was saying as he stood next to him. Rob wondered what he meant by that. Was the man just part-crazy or really crazy? Something inside him told him he probably didn’t want to know. After all, what kind of preparations would you make for something like this? Guns, other types of weapons… Was it legal or illegal? Rob could never fathom having what he felt like he would need to be ready for something like this.
As Rob thought about it a little more, he realized that if there was any place ready for zombies, it sure felt like this place was. The front door was secured strong enough, so it would take a lot of force to get through it. The windows were high and hard to climb up to if someone wanted to get in. The place had food. While it wasn’t great food, it was enough to last the small group of people for a couple of days. All in all, the place wasn’t that bad to hole up in until help came.
He hadn’t heard the couple screaming yet, but he hadn’t seen their car come around the front, either. He guessed they could have gone around to the back of the building. Still, he hadn’t heard anything. He hoped that was good news. Part of him hated the unease and the not knowing. The edginess in his arms craved for him to open the front door and just take a peek to see if they were okay.
If the front door opened, how long would it take for those things to come crashing through?
Something slammed against the front door and, as a surprised scream caught in his throat, he knew he had his answer.
* * * *
“Are we sure they're zombies? I mean, there ain't any military bases nearby that I know of. Could there be anything underground nearby? Some hidden lab? Fifty miles south of here is where I call home, so I’m not sure I’d have heard any scuttlebutt if there was one,” Bruce said as he turned away
from the front window and took a seat at the bar.
Jason walked behind the bar, turning the sink on to wash the grease from the back door metal bar off before walking back over to the larger man. The man was nervous. He was trying to hide it, but his hands shook and his face had lost its color.
“I’ll take a 7 with sprite on ice,” the large truck driver said, blowing out a long breath as he gripped the bar. The man closed his eyes and was concentrating on his breathing. Jason ignored him and grabbed the Seagram’s bottle that was on the back wall.
“What is a zombie?” Denise asked. She was still at the table near the car seat left by the insane couple that had just decided to leave.
Hell, Jason thought, at least it got Mr. Jones the hell out of here.
Denise saw that Jason was looking at her. Then she seemed to have realized she had said something. Her arms quickly wrapped around herself, and she lowered herself back into the chair.
“Zombies? That’s easy. They are reanimated corpses,” Sullivan said, quick to answer from his place by the front window.
Getting ready to dig into an old argument, Jason said, “Really? That’s funny because dead men just don’t get up and walk. Dead men stay dead. Military experiments, the ones that create super soldiers and new kinds of viruses, spread and make people look dead, but all they are is infected.”
“They don’t have a pulse,” Denise said absently. Jason stopped, about to put the drink on the counter in front of Bruce. Both of them turned and were watching her. She just looked down at her hands, speaking softly, barely audible, “They don’t have a pulse. Their blood doesn’t bleed from the wounds they inflict on themselves. They don’t seem to eat, but when they come after you, they tear into your flesh. They aren’t so much eating you as they are biting into you to-” Her voice trailed off and was quickly followed by her sobbing.
Caught in the Web Page 17
